


He's A Tramp

by wingedbears



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BDSM, Background Joyce Byers, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Collars, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Top Steve Harrington, billy hargrove's need to be loved, soft dom Steve Harrington, steve harrington's need to nurture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: Steve and Billy branch out in the world of BDSM.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 176
Collections: harringrove for Australia





	He's A Tramp

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rae, for the HfA, a thousand years after the deadline.

Steve stands in the aisles of Melvald’s, listening to the tinny speakers blast Caribbean Queen. He’s in the pet section, blushing at the collars. 

Joyce has peered down the aisle at him twice and he whips around to look at the cleaning supplies, one of which he’s going to have to grab so he doesn’t look suspicious. 

He reaches out to the one he wants, the dark brown, almost black, leather one — thick, with a silver ring to attach the leash to.

He swallows, thinking about it, blushing again. 

This thing between him and Billy, it’s so new. Sure, they’ve actually known each other for five years, but they didn’t become friends until after Billy saved everyone at Starcourt Mall. Until Billy got sad and quiet and withdrawn. 

Honestly, Steve didn’t know that Billy had a neck until the following fall when he stopped wearing his shirts unbuttoned. Like he was ashamed.

Billy should never be ashamed. 

Steve reaches for the collar again, feeling like his hand is moving through sand when Joyce clears her throat, and Steve jumps, knocking over the sponges and Windex behind him.

“Oh!” she says, and she and Steve both squat down to pick up the offending items and put them on the shelf. Steve opts for the sponges and window cleaner, not wanting to touch the dog collars. 

“Are you thinking of getting a dog?” Joyce asks from behind. 

Steve can’t imagine what color red he is right now, but Robin said “vermillion” the other day in reference to the blood in Jaws, and it sounds like the level of embarrassment Steve is at. “No,” Steve definitely does not squeak. Okay, maybe a little. _Okay,_ it was like fucking Alvin from the Chipmunks, but Joyce is like, _a mom,_ and she’s asking something unknowingly has to do with Steve’s sex life. Maybe. 

If Billy would let him.

“Okay,” Joyce says, letting the thought go. But it won’t leave Steve. 

He grabs a sponge he doesn’t need right now (eventually, sure, but not right now) and Joyce rings him up.

“Steve,” she says, scrunching her face, “you’ve been by every day after your work to look at dog collars, but you’re not gonna get a dog?”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to choke on his own spit, but here he is, almost twenty years old, and still learning. 

“Maybe one day,” he amends and laughs awkwardly as Joyce smiles. 

The bag feels weirdly heavy on the way to his apartment he shares with Billy, but he’s really tired so he doesn’t give it a whole lot of thought.

He comes in from the cold, shaking off the wet damp that seeps into his bones. 

“‘M home,” he calls out, though Billy probably knows, the way he can be jumpy, sometimes. Steve likes to make more noise than normal because of it.

“Hey,” Billy says, voice carrying through the living room and kitchen to reach Steve. 

Steve shucks off his coat, heels off his boots and walks to the living room to kiss the top of Billy’s head. “Got you something,” he teases and drops the bag of sponges into Billy’s lap. 

It lands with a thud, and Steve frowns. Sponges aren’t heavy, unless…

Billy pulls out the collar. He doesn’t say anything, and looks at Steve, up and behind him.

Steve is clearly dying of mortification, so he’d thought he’d get a pass on having to explain himself.

“Steve?” Billy asks, perplexed.

“I got sponges,” Steve blurts out. “I got sponges, Joyce must have sneaked in the collar.”

“Why would Joyce make you steal a collar?”

Steve thinks he’s going to pass out with the amount of blood in his face and chest. 

“And why are you blushing?” he smirks.

“I wanted,” Steve clears his throat, “I wanted to give you something special.”

“Sponges?” Billy asks. He’s being deliberately obtuse, and Steve shouldn’t find this cute. Because it’s not. 

But Billy smiles, and Steve melts a little. “Okay, you know how we’ve been, uh,” Steve pauses. He’s fucked Billy, whispered his deepest desires and dreams to this man, but somehow approaching a conversation about what they’ve been doing in the bedroom is… hard. _Fuck._

“Yeah?” Billy asks, because he’s smart, and waiting for Steve to get around to saying “I tie you up sometimes and make you do what I say” is going to take until the next decade comes rolling in. 

“So, I thought, I’ve been thinking,” Steve sighs, collapses on the couch next to Billy. “What if I put this collar on you?” he asks the stained carpet in front of the couch.

Billy is quiet for a moment. 

Steve knows he’s asking a fucking lot, he’s asking for Billy’s trust, and that’s no small thing.

“What would you do with it?” Billy asks. 

Right. Steve has to verbalize his fantasy in order to make this work. No matter how many times he’s done this, it doesn’t get any less embarrassing. Steve clears his throat. “I’d put it on you, then I’d lay you down and make you listen to me. Let me tell you what I want to tell you, and you’d have to listen.”

“That’s just talking though,” Billy says, pushing the line. He does that. _Where’s the line? How far can I put my toe over it? When’s the other shoe gonna fall?_

Joke’s on Billy, Steve would do anything. Not that he doesn’t have boundaries, just, Billy’s gonna have to try harder than just being a brat to get on Steve’s bad side. 

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Steve insists, finally looking up from the green carpet and to Billy. “Sometimes I tell you things, but you don’t believe me,” he continues. “This time, you would.”

Billy hums, holding the leather collar in his hands, flipping it, wrapping it around his knuckles, tests its strength. “Now?” he asks.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Steve replies, and Billy relaxes, leaning into Steve’s arms, letting the commercial break for Golden Girls play. 

Steve goes to bed, like always, holding Billy. 

The morning comes, and Steve is groggily thankful he doesn’t have to go into work today before drifting back to sleep. He hears the shower running, Billy’s hums and small morning noises fill Steve’s headspace as he slowly comes back to the world.

Billy sets a chipped mug of coffee, lots of milk like Steve likes, on the bed stand table. 

Steve hums, sitting up in his rumpled shirt, sweaty around the collar to sip at it, blearily looking at Billy, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him.

“Morning, sunshine,” Billy teases, and Steve grunts.

Steve doesn’t know why Billy is the morning person of the household, but either way he’s thankful for coffee. 

Steve takes a few more drinks, idly scratching at his chest, and he gets the odd feeling he’s being laughed at. 

“What?” he whines. 

“You are somehow like, the smartest person when it comes to emotions, but like, the dumbest when it comes to mornings,” Billy says, scooting closer on the bed, and Steve looks up from his cup and cocoon of cotton and sees Billy.

Billy, sitting at the edge of the bed, fully naked, his long hair still dripping down his shoulders, the brown collar peeking out from behind curls. He smiles, deviously, devilishly. “Good morning, Steve,” he says. 

Steve gapes at him for a moment, and he feels like that’s only fair because then Billy is laughing, wide smile bright as he tries to tuck it behind his hands. It’s beautiful, and Steve needs a moment. “Really?” he asks, feeling dumb.

“Yeah,” Billy nods. 

Steve likes him like this, cocksure and arrogant in their room, in Steve’s love. “Okay,” Steve breathes. He reaches out to grab the D-ring of Billy’s collar, already warm from his skin. He runs his fingers up to dip them in the space between Billy’s neck and the collar, checking how much room Billy left. 

Steve frowns, unable to dip two fingers snugly in. “I’m gonna readjust your collar, okay? We’re still playing.”

Billy nods, sticking his chin up and Steve watches as Billy swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

Steve lets the tongue of the collar loose from the buckle, pulling it two notches further out and threading it back in. 

It’s loose, but Steve wants that. He’s not going to attach a leash to Billy. This time. 

This time it’s about getting Billy to pay attention, and Steve tugs on the D-ring again, pulling Billy towards him. 

Billy leans in, eager, his lips ready to be kissed, his smirk sure and wicked. 

“Tell me,” Steve says, leaning back as Billy leans forward again. “What’s your word?”

Billy frowns, licking his lips, trying to focus on Steve’s own. 

It’s a fight every time. Billy wants to have total control of the situation. And he does, no matter if Steve calls it off, or not. But this is the first act in getting him to follow Steve’s rules; to make him listen. His safeword.

Billy leans forward again, trying to capture Steve’s mouth. 

Steve is weak and human and lets him. He hums, savoring the slide of lips. “What’s your word, Billy?” he asks again, teasing. He brings a hand up to play with Billy’s curls, tugs on them, slides the flat of his palm down the length of Billy’s arm. Brings Billy’s hand to his mouth kisses the mound of his thumb. “C’mon, let me hear it.”

Billy huffs, clearly wanting, still in that struggle. Of letting go. Of trusting someone else. “Aluminum,” Billy finally relents. 

Steve kisses him for that, slow and soft, softer than Billy is asking for at the moment. Billy pleads not with his words, but with his body. 

But this is not the time for pleading. Not yet, anyway.

Steve scoots back, arranges the pillows against the wall, opens his legs, and pats at the space between them. 

Billy crawls forward, smiling, trying to get Steve off track. 

“Turn around, back against me,” Steve says, a minute into their kiss. 

“Why,” Billy whines (although if you ask him, it’s not whining, he never whines). 

“I have plans, and I can’t do them like this.”

“You’re gonna have to make me,” Billy replies, and honestly, Steve should’ve expected this. 

Billy’s at an advantage, on all fours while Steve’s got his back against the wall, but Steve swings a leg out anyway, clamping his thighs around Billy’s waist. 

Billy lets out a huff of air, laughs, and struggles to get away. 

Steve just hangs on like a koala, because he knows while Billy can deadlift Steve’s weight, he’s also not very flexible. He waits until Billy’s flexed himself around and holds his arms back. 

Billy bucks, caught. He tugs, waiting, for what, Steve never knows, but that something never comes so he relaxes and Steve lets go. 

“I had everything all set up,” Steve complains, fluffing the pillows again. He urges Billy to lay back on him again. 

Billy presses the hard line of his spine to Steve’s chest, opens his legs to let Steve see the half chub that Billy is sporting. 

“Okay, close your eyes,” Steve says, and waits for a moment. He waves his hand in front of Billy’s face.

“How does that help you?” Billy laughs.

“It told me your eyes are open!” Steve says, going for an admonishing tone, gone in the laughter in his voice. 

“I felt the air move,” Billy replies. He reaches up and grabs Steve’s arm, feeling his way to Steve’s open palm, and brings it to his face. “Eyes closed,” he says. 

Steve feels the flutter of Billy’s thick lashes tickle his palm. “Okay, I believe you,” Steve says, cupping Billy’s jaw. He glides his hand down Billy’s stubbled chin, his patchy neck, urges him to turn.

Billy does, eyes still closed, and Steve kisses him. Billy’s lips are more plush than they look, and that’s really saying something. Billy tastes like coffee, like the hint of peppermint in his toothpaste. He’s open, sighing into Steve’s mouth already, and they just got started. 

Steve trickles his fingers down to the collar. Tugs at it a little.

Billy grunts, leaning forward, his hands moving south.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Steve says, and Billy’s hands stop, but he bites his lip.

Steve soothes it with his tongue. 

Steve continues to kiss Billy, letting his hand rest on top of the collar, feeling where leather meets skin, dipping between the two, testing. 

“Steve,” Billy says softly.

Steve knows Billy’s getting impatient, just kissing. Kisses him again anyways. “Do I need to get the tie?” Steve asks, pulling back, admiring his work. 

The tie was a dollar at the thrift store. Steve bought it because Mrs. Henderson invited him to church. Now it’s used for holier reasons. 

Billy shakes his head. Clenches his fists. Impatient. 

Steve smiles, slowly, even though Billy still has his eyes closed. Billy’s going to be waiting a while. “You sure?” he teases, nips at Billy’s shoulder. 

Billy breathes in deeply. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He pauses. “Why aren’t you naked?”

“Don’t need to be right now,” Steve says, squeezing Billy’s bicep, loving the muscle flexing under his hand. 

Billy pushes back against Steve’s growing erection. “Counterpoint,” he says.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll all have a good time.”

Billy laughs. “So the graffiti in the girl’s room was right?”

“When were you in the girl’s bathroom?” Steve asks. He nips Billy’s chin. 

“Junior year, needed to prove I liked girls.”

“By going in their bathroom?” 

Billy’s eyes are shut but the moment of silence is pointed enough to know that Billy would be rolling his eyes at him. “By going down on them in the bathroom, you idiot.”

Steve scoffs. “You did not!”

Billy shrugs. “Melissa Mitchell, fall of ‘84.”

Steve knows he should feel jealous, should feel the turmoil and insecurity he always feels. But it doesn’t come today. “Well too bad for Melissa Mitchell because you’re mine now.”

Billy hums, pushing back against Steve’s crotch, trying to rub it into Steve. Urging him into doing more than tiny nips and kisses. 

Steve slides out from behind Billy, takes his shirt off and throws it on the floor. “Lay down,” Steve urges, and Billy does, gripping his fists. Steve picks up the shirt and makes Billy hold it. “I know you don’t need the tie, but I also don’t want you fucking up your palms, either.”

Billy grips the shirt and Steve puts Billy’s gripping hands over his head. “Can I open my eyes now?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Billy snaps his eyes open, quickly looking to Steve. “You’re really taking your sweet time about this,” he frowns.

“You got somewhere to be, Hargrove?” Steve rolls his eyes, straddles Billy’s waist. 

“No, but your dick needs to be in me, like, yesterday.”

Steve places his hands on either side of Billy’s head. “Don’t worry,” he says, leaning down to brush his lips against Billy’s. “We’ll get there.” He lays his body on top of Billy’s, feeling the hard line of his chest, his softening belly against Steve’s own. 

Steve peppers kisses all across Billy’s face, feeling the way the landscape of his skin changes underneath Steve’s lips. Loving the contrast between the delicate skin of Billy’s eyelids and the sharp scrape of his jawline. Billy is a plethora of worlds for Steve’s mouth to discover. And all Billy can do about it, is take. 

Billy tries to open his legs wider, to get Steve to slide in between them but Steve simply sits up and clamps his legs together over Billy’s. 

“Not yet,” Steve says, and moves to Billy’s throat. 

“It’s been an hour,” Billy whines.

“It’s been like fifteen minutes, didn’t Melissa Mitchell teach you anything about foreplay?”

“Please do not bring up Melissa while I’m trying to get my boyfriend to stop fucking around and get his dick in me, okay? Really jarring,” Billy smiles. 

Steve tries not to pause. _Boyfriend_. That’s the first time Billy’s called him that. “I’ll think about it,” Steve says, but can’t resist going back up from the Adam’s apple for another kiss on the lips.

“No!” Billy says, “This is the opposite of what I wanted!” But he doesn’t say _aluminum_ , and he’s not really angry. Steve knows what that looks like. 

Steve just smiles, licks a long stripe down Billy’s neck, over the collar, pausing to suck on the D-ring for a moment. Billy wiggles between Steve’s clamped thighs.

Steve scoots down, still making sure that his thighs are outside of Billy’s. Their cocks rub against each other through thin cotton — strikes of lightning, and then gone — as Steve hunches over Billy’s chest and licks a flat tongue over one of Billy’s nipples.

Billy arches; makes the aborted move to grab for Steve before returning to the shirt above his head. Steve stays there for a few moments, gently rubbing his lips against one of the growing buds of Billy’s nipples, then scraping his teeth over one, then the other. Only to come back and suck, twist, and blow cool air over them. Left then right, not quite systematically, never what Billy would expect, but enough. 

He takes a meaty bite of Billy’s pec, and Billy makes a keening noise. 

Steve smiles; they’re finally getting somewhere. 

Steve makes his way down Billy’s torso, slowly. It’s done methodically this time, biting and licking, pinching and twisting, sucking and sweetly tickling the tender parts of Billy’s sides and belly. 

Billy is rocking his hips into Steve’s face by the time he gets to the center of him. And Steve considers it. To suck Billy off, to finger him, fuck him, tell him how good he’s being. And any other time, he would. But he made a promise, and he’s gonna see it through. 

He grabs Billy’s cock, and Billy hisses out a satisfied “Yes,” flexing his hips up to Steve’s warm embrace. 

Steve locks eyes with Billy, makes sure that those burning ocean eyes are on him as he delicately kisses the tip of Billy’s dick. And lets go.

“Fuck!” Billy yells, shifting, trying to get friction, somewhere, anywhere, pressing back against the bed, pushing out to the air, glaring at Steve. “Fuck you,” he breathes, not meaning it. 

“I will.”

“Now, Harrington,” Billy hisses, and Steve gently slaps Billy’s side. 

“No,” he says. Steve gets off of Billy’s thighs, scooting back to finally slip between them. “I’ll make it easier on you and start from the bottom,” Steve continues, and picks up one of Billy’s feet. He begins to massage it, rubbing thumbs into the curve of his sole, popping the toes and wiggling them.

He picks up the right one and repeats.

Steve looks at Billy, his chest breathing easy now, eyes closed. His hands are still curled around Steve’s shirt, but not pulling and gripping at it like he was. Steve makes his way up to one knee, then switches to the other, before hiking Billy’s knees up and out to spread him wide.

“Gonna fall asleep,” Billy complains aimlessly.

“It’s okay if you want to,” Steve says, and nips at Billy’s inner thigh.

“Seriously? I’m almost asleep and you start on my thighs?”

“Where did you think I was going?” Steve laughs. He’s getting impatient himself, sucking and biting Billy’s thighs, bruising them. He flicks Billy’s ass. “Get the lube.”

“Thank Christ,” Billy hisses, and opens the night stand drawer to dig around in it. He flings the tube at Steve, who catches it and warms some between his fingers.

Billy wiggles back into place, smiling. “Ready.”

“Really?” Steve asks, reaching underneath Billy’s sack. He runs a finger around Billy’s opening, watching as Billy tries to fuck himself on Steve’s fingers. 

Steve simply rubs his fingers against Billy’s hole, never quite dipping in, just circling. He waits as Billy’s hips get higher and higher, his soft grunts of want get louder.

“Steve,” Billy says, his head back and face twisted in pleasure, and that’s good enough for Steve to start.

He slips one finger in, slowly fucking Billy, in contrast to his short hip movements. 

Billy’s hips collapse on the mattress, he keens, trying to drag Steve closer with his legs. 

Steve’s cock jumps at the sight of his fingers in Billy’s ass, knowing what comes soon after (they both do in more ways than one), eager to find a home in between Billy’s thighs.

Steve slips in another finger, pumping and twisting. 

“Now,” Billy is saying, “Steve, c’mon, now.”

Steve can’t help but agree, and shucks off his sleep pants and underwear, gingerly getting his cock out of the way. 

Billy opens his legs impossibly wider. 

“You’re gonna ride me,” Steve says, laying down next to Billy.

Billy gets up and grabs Steve’s cock firmly.

Steve lets out a groan, his own arousal punching him in the gut as Billy pops Steve’s head in and slowly slides down, until he’s fully seated.

Billy’s eyes flutter close like they always do.

“Good?” Steve gasps.

“Always,” Billy answers. He starts to lift his hips, starts to fuck himself on Steve’s cock when Steve catches sight of the collar, and remembers.

Steve reaches up and threads his finger through the D-ring, and pulls Billy down, enough where Billy has to put both hands on either side of Steve’s shoulders. “Like this,” Steve says. 

Billy nods, eyes wide, and tries to lift up, but can only grind, a position Steve knows hits his prostate relentlessly, endless friction. Billy grits his teeth and closes his eyes.

“Open your eyes,” Steve tells him, and Billy does.

They’re wide and wet, taking in all of Steve. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve says, not letting go of the collar, not letting go of Billy’s sight. “I mean, you’re always so fucking beautiful, but I love this, I love it when you can’t do anything but take me in.”

Billy gasps, his ass clenching, urging Steve to pick up the pace.

Steve is stalwart in not moving, except to bring his hand up from Billy’s thigh to twist his nipple. 

“Fuck,” Billy says.

“I’m not done,” Steve growls, and Billy shudders. 

“You’re so kind too, don’t think I don’t see it, because I do. You made me coffee this morning. You hate coffee. You wait up for me after work, even though you’re tired from your job.” 

Billy’s eyes dart to the side of Steve’s face, overwhelmed. 

“Keep your eyes on mine,” Steve tells him, softly. He starts to grind up into Billy, unable to resist the cocoon of heat. “And strong. And I don’t mean like your body, although it’s true, I mean you took on monsters and the town and your enemies, and you won. You won, Billy.

“You’re so fucking smart too, like not just in book ways, but in ways you make me feel loved.”

Billy’s eyes water, sniffing. “Don’t,” he says, but he doesn’t look away.

“I want to make you feel like that too,” Steve says. He pounds into Billy, never letting go of the collar, feeling Billy’s wet cock rub against his belly. Steve lets go of the nipple, making Billy gasp again, reaching for his cock.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” He asks, thumbing the tip, oozing with pre. “Wanna see that, wanna see you fall for me.”

Billy yells, either Steve’s name or cursing, it’s too long to tell as his body seizes up, fucking into Steve’s hand and back against his cock, his mouth open for air, the Saint of Travelers and Surfers sways above Steve’s heart. 

Billy collapses, still clenching, moaning into Steve’s ear.

“In you or on you?” Steve asks, rubbing an open palm on Billy’s back.

“On me,” Billy rasps.

Steve pulls out and flips them over, getting up on shaky knees to stroke himself, not taking long at all to come, splattering thin white ropes over Billy’s panting chest. 

Steve tries his best not to collapse next to Billy, but just stumbles into a floppy pile next to him. 

“You okay?” Steve asks into the pillows.

Billy hums.

Steve rolls over and pulls Billy to him, clumsy and weak. “Fuck that was good. Was that good? Need some chocolate?” Steve asks, petting Billy’s sweaty hair. “Anything you want, babe.”

Billy hums again, a higher note. “It’s’always good,” he slurs. 

“Good,” Steve says. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He drifts off, and when he wakes up again, finally gets out of bed and gets a washcloth for them both. He wipes down Billy’s body carefully, trying not to pull at the dried cum in his chest hair, and throws the cloths on the floor before going to the kitchen.

He comes back, snuggling up to Billy’s back. “Got you something,” he says, dropping the Hershey bar on Billy’s pillow.

“If it’s another collar I need like, three to five business day before I can work again,” Billy grumbles. 

“Too much?” Steve asks, running his finger gingerly through Billy’s curls. 

“Naw babe,” he says, voice rough, eyes open. “Never enough with you.”

Steve thinks that deserves a kiss. 

And maybe tomorrow he can go to Melvald’s and get the leash. Just in case. 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr! @wingedbears


End file.
